


Day 28

by problematiquefave



Series: Kinktober 2018 [28]
Category: Fear the Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Frottage, Gunplay, Introspection, Kinktober, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-08-08 23:36:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16439012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/problematiquefave/pseuds/problematiquefave
Summary: When Nick slammed him against the wall, what followed was nothing like Troy imagined.





	Day 28

Troy’s back hits the wall with a crack – pain reverberates up his spine but he moves his neck, tilting his head to the side, assured that nothing’s broken (nothing physically, at least) and curious about the furious face before him. Both of Nick’s hands are holding onto his collar, his nostrils flared and his eyes narrowed with anger. He thinks, if he could feel fear, that Nick’s expression would scare him.

“If you would just keep your mouth shut for one fucking moment—” Rage drips from his words and fills his eyes brown eyes with fire. He gets it instantly and perhaps he should have sooner. He’s just surprised to see Nick angry. He’s usually so listless and lifeless to almost be indistinguishable from the dead. But here’s he alive, yelling at Troy about another one of his misdeeds, about the way people die every time he opens his mouth.

Terrance was a good kid. Kind of fat, kind of oafish, probably wouldn’t have survived without the protection of the ranch, but he took action. He didn’t _succeed_ , and now he’s suffocating to death in the med-bay with a crushed trachea, but he pulled the trigger. He did something. Troy can admire that.

Of course, that’s not Nick’s takeaway – and he doesn’t think it should be Troy’s either, if the judgement and fury is anything to go off. His words probably said as much but Troy had stopped paying attention almost the second they began. He’s learned to tune that sort of tone out. His mother, his father, his brother… How many people has he disappointed over the years?

“—even paying attention to me?”

Troy blinks. “Hm?”

Nick lets out a heavy, frustrated sigh, glancing away from Troy like he can’t bear to look at him. Maybe he can’t. He _probably_ can’t. Jake can’t, Alicia never has been able to, and Madison’s getting there – it’s only been a matter of time before Nick joins them.

He tells himself it’s not disappointing.

And then he tells himself… Well, nothing, because Nick’s lips are pressed against his, chapped and demanding and. His brain goes blank. Troy’s eyes widen instead of close, staring at the younger man. He doesn’t react, doesn’t respond, and Nick looks even more frustrated when he pulls away.

“I should hate you,” he says. “Everything you’ve done and said… I should be disgusted with you. I should be glad when you fuck up so you can suffer the consequences. I shouldn’t— I shouldn’t be scared I’ll lose you.”

His admission comes as Troy is still pressed against the wall. If anything, Nick’s grip tightens instead of loosens – pinning him there, holding him up as he talks, subjecting him to the hurricane of emotions rolling across his face. He should fight back, scratch and claw and bite like the wild animal he is. Why isn’t he though? It would be nice if he could scrounge up an answer, if he could discover a single word. Yet his mind is blank. It’s not even blissfully so.

“Did I break you?” Nick asks and that word – _break_ – finally manages to spark something.

“No. That happened before the world ended.”

It elicits a laugh from him but it’s not a happy laugh. He doesn’t sound amused. He sounds irritated and desperate, like he’s drowning in a world without hope. He even lets one hand go, running it through his shortened hair. He shakes his head, his brown eyes drilling deep into Troy’s soul. Does he have one of those? He’s never been sure what to make of religion. He knows he’s not headed to heaven if there is one. Is Nick headed there?

_Focus_. Nick is doing something.

He’s reaching behind him, drawing something out of the band of his pants. It’s a gun. The sight of it is like an injection of adrenaline straight to the heart but he still doesn’t move, still doesn’t fight. He lets him bring the gun up, lets him press the cold metal of the barrel to his cheek. He smells gunpowder, smells _death_ , and looks at Nick with an silent question.

_What are you going to do?_

The answer is to kiss him, again, but this time with the gun pressed against his cheek. It’s just the side of the barrel, like a twisted caress, and maybe that makes sense. He’s always been the most excited when Nick has a gun on him. It applies here too because, this time, he kisses back.

The other hand on his collar disappears, snaking between their bodies. Troy’s eyes are shut tight but he can feel the pressure of Nick’s fingers on his fly, undoing the button and shoving his pants and boxers down just far enough to free him. His hands are calloused, too rough on his cock but fuck. Is it any surprise that he likes a little pain?

He pulls back, still inches from Troy’s face. He may no longer be holding Troy there but the older man is still trapped, boxed in with nowhere else to go. With no desire to go anywhere. He should, shouldn’t he? This should disgust him, shouldn’t it? To be at the mercy of another man, to be kissed and touched and made vulnerable… Should this not be his greatest fear? Thoughts to put in his journal for later; his fingers itch for a pen but then they itch for something else. For Nick.

Nick undoes his own jeans and then he’s there, closer than ever. Their bodies are pressed together, their cocks are touching. Nick spits into his hand and wraps it around them, jerking them together. It shouldn’t be enough – it shouldn’t cause Troy to throw his head back and exhale with pleasure. It shouldn’t send shivers down his spine or cause fire to burn in his belly. But all he can focus on is Nick’s presence, his warmth, and his lips on Troy’s skin.

Oh, and the gun to his head.

It shakes as Nick moves, sliding it up his head until the barrel is pressed against his temple. The perfect shot. No one would question it – no one would doubt Nick. If he pulled the trigger, if he took the shot, everyone would say it’s a suicide. That Troy was a disturbed young man, grieving his father, and who’s own mind turned against him.

Maybe that’s the plan. Maybe Troy wouldn’t mind. He certainly doesn’t flinch when Nick cocks the safety – he doesn’t even think about it a second later because something snaps inside of him, like the wall of dam breaking beneath the rush of the river. He comes with a string of curses, all over Nick’s and it mixes with the younger man’s own release as he finds that high seconds later.

He sags against the wall, sinking from it like a lead balloon. Nick is the only thing keeping him up but then he steps away and Troy slides to the ground. At least he manages to pull his pants back up, to cover his shame. It’s shame, right? Though he doesn’t _feel_ ashamed. That’s another thing to think about but then Nick is speaking and, this time, Troy pays attention.

“Y’know, this wasn’t even loaded,” he says, turning the gun over in his hand.

“Next time, it should be.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Comments are appreciated, you can also find me on [Tumblr](https://problematiquefics.tumblr.com/).


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